


The Empty Hearse

by littlemisscurious



Series: Days In Our Lives [8]
Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Postnatal depression, Sherlock - Freeform, spoiler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one shot contains spoilers for the new Sherlock episode "The Empty Hearse". So if you haven't watched it, maybe don't read it yet. Otherwise, I hope you'll enjoy this :) Feel free to leave comments either here, or on my writing blog (w-is-for-writing.tumblr.com) :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empty Hearse

"He's sleeping, Benedict. Come on now, sit down!" I have to chuckle quietly at my wife's impatience and after placing the baby monitor on the small table beside me, I take my seat next to Charlene. "You know, I could just tell you what happens," I whisper into her ear with a grin, earning myself a punch on the thigh. "Don't you dare, Benedict! I have waited two years for this so don't you dare spoil it now," she laughs and I bury my face in the crook of her neck, joining in the laughter, "And don't you dare distract me either," she adds quietly but audibly still smiling before I start nipping on the soft tissue of her neck. The fingers of her hand that still rests on my leg increase the pressure on my thigh while the last few minutes of East Enders flicker over the screen and I can’t resist but tease her a little.

"We still got a few minutes," I remind her, kissing my way up to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. I relish the little moan leaving her mouth and I can feel her struggling to resist my advances. "Ben please. That's not fair." It's barely a whisper when she buries her hand in my curls, gently pulling me away from her neck. "Sorry darling. But you are simply irresistible," I smile, breathing a kiss onto her cheek before I place my arm around her shoulders so she can lean onto me. I almost wanted to add that it's her being a mother now which adds to her appeal to me but I know better.

 

I didn't know she could be even sexier than she was but seeing her giving birth to our son, nurturing him, made her a goddess in my eyes. Besides, there's something about those extra curves, the wider hips, the bigger breasts, the way she oozes femininity which makes her the sexiest woman on the planet. I know she doesn't feel that way. She feels neither sexy nor proud; she doesn't even feel comfortable being a mother, being responsible for this tiny human being we created. I've tried to help her, did everything I could to make her see how incredible and perfect little Noah is but to no avail. The only thing she sees is a child that is dependent on us, that craves our constant attention, that constricts her freedom and takes without giving.

She has decided to get help now and it will take time, I suppose, until she can accept her role as a mother and all the wonderful and occasionally scary things that go along with being a parent. I partly blame myself for her inability to love our son. For years I've wanted children and when we found out she is pregnant, I was overjoyed. Maybe I should have given her more time to decide; she is ten years my junior after all. But it’s too late for “what ifs” now and we have to deal with the given situation. I will give her all the time she needs and I will support her in whatever way I can because I love her. I love Noah, too, and until Charlene is able to love him the very same way that I do, I will give him twice the love for the both of us.

“Shush now,” she mumbles as the newest episode of Sherlock begins and I watch her more than the screen. She hadn’t been able to attend the BFI screening earlier this month so this is actually the first time she’ll see it. I’m nervous. I’m my own worst critic, that’s true, but apart from the opinion of my parents, Charlene’s matters the most to me. I bite my bottom lip while the first scenes flicker over the TV screen and her eyebrows rise up when the kiss between Sherlock and Molly is shown. “Damn, that was hot, Benedict,” she mutters quietly before her attention is back on the TV.

***

“So, what do you think?,” I mumble nervously as the credits roll, my gaze still fixed on my wife rather than the list of names on the screen. She hesitates for a moment, collecting her thoughts, ere she turns off the sound, leaving us in momentary silence. “That was...amazing. Truly and utterly incredible,” Charlene smiles as she turns towards me and I release the breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “I’m so proud of you, Benedict. And of all the others too. You’ve done such a marvellous job with this. Also, I will have to rewatch it in the next couple of days, I bet I missed loads of things,” she winks and I laugh quietly. I’ve blushed a little, I know that. I’m not good with accepting compliments and when they’re so honest and heartfelt and from her, I simply don’t know how to react. I’m still quite self-conscious when it comes to my work but praise and appreciation from those I love most fills me with an incredible amount of pride. “Thank you, Charlene,” I whisper, taking her hands gently into mine.

“Will you do me a favour?” Her eyes, shimmering in the light of our Christmas tree, are fixed on me and I can only nod at her question. “Kiss me,” Charlene breathes, sending a tingle up my spine. Letting go of her hands, I remember her earlier utterance after the kiss and with a grin, I place my hands on either side of her head ere I press my lips hungrily onto hers. Her fingers grab my shirt and she pulls herself onto my lap without once breaking the connection of her lips while I deepen the kiss, my tongue gliding along the curve of her bottom lip. I smile against her lips as her fingers open button after button of my shirt, exposing my chest to the warmth of the room and to the touch of her clothes on my naked skin.

Without interrupting our kiss, I stand up from the sofa, my wife safely in my arms as I leave the living room to walk upstairs. At the top of the stairs, I stumble a little but luckily I manage to get us into the bedroom without further incidents. Charlene’s lips are now gliding over my neck, nipping and sucking on my skin and I bite my bottom lip to suppress a moan. One after the other, our clothing covers the wooden floor, exposing more of her skin and mine while I, in return, cover hers with kisses. Her skin is soft under my lips, under my touch, and I make sure to take my time, not only for her pleasure but also my own. I love kissing her, I love touching her. I love listening to her quiet sighs and moans and I love the way she buries her hand in my hair, holding onto it and letting go right in tune with her sighs and gasps.

 

“Benedict, I...we can’t,...um, I mean…,” she stutters after a while and I smile against her stomach ere I lift my head and look up. “I know, darling. But there are loads of other things I could think about doing with you instead of having sex.” I move further up to bring my head to level with hers, one hand buried in the cushion beside her while the other still roams over her body. “I could spend hours just looking at you lying here underneath me with tousled hair and flushed cheeks and...god Charlene, you are beautiful,” I whisper as she averts her eyes, visibly embarrassed, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “I could spend hours kissing you, relishing the feel of your skin under my lips, the heaving of your chest as my tongue swirls around your nipples, ere they harden under my touch” I continue, quietly, ere I do exactly what I describe. “I could spend hours stroking you, letting my fingertips glide over the soft skin of your arms, your breasts, your stomach, the insides of your thighs.” Again, I do exactly as I say, my voice low and quiet while I watch her reaction. Her eyes flutter close and her fingers bury themselves in the white fabric of our bedsheet.

“I could spend hours tasting you, letting my tongue glide over the curve of your bottom lip, over the swell of your breasts.” I knowingly avoid her more intimate parts as so soon after the birth of our son she is still healing and the last thing I want to do is cause her discomfort or pain. Instead, I caress the rest of her gorgeous, feminine body. Every inch, every glorious inch deserves attention and I intend to give it just that.

***

“Kiss me, Benedict. Kiss me like you mean it and never stop,” Charlene begs quietly, her hands roaming over my back and I oblige willingly. I love her. I love her so much it hurts to be away from her and now that I am here, starting our first year as husband and wife with her, I want to make use of every hour, every minute, of each day. And so I kiss her. Like I mean it. And believe me, I do.


End file.
